


laurel is the first to say I love you

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Series: i won't go quietly into the night [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6499582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Laurel says "I love you" to Nyssa, and the first time Nyssa says "I love you" to Laurel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	laurel is the first to say I love you

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my "fuck the CW, let's write about Laurel Lance being alive and happy and kissing ladies" initiative

**Laurel**

Unsurprisingly, Laurel is the first one to say “I love you.”

Somewhat surprisingly, she’s the one to say it in the aftermath of a fight.

Nyssa’s practically dancing around the room, a taunting smile on her face as she toys with the henchmen–and toys, truly, is the only word. A man drops his guard for a split second, more than enough time for the Demon’s Heir to capitalize on his mistake and finish the fight before it’s even started; all Nyssa does is slap his cheek sharply, open handed, and dart away with a bright, nasty laugh.

With a sharp kick to one knee, Laurel takes her current combatant to the floor, and then she lets herself drift off to the side, leans one shoulder against the wall and watches. Occasionally someone remembers she’s there and drags her back into the fight, but Nyssa, her quick feet and sharp hits, keeps most of their attention on her.

She’s never seen Nyssa this _free_ , having this much _fun_. A henchman tries to sneak up behind her, and Nyssa spins, one leg flashing out, and suddenly she’s done messing around–though she isn’t done playing.

She’s still spinning, still dancing, but now she’s taking the opportunities she was ignoring earlier: that man crumples, unconscious, that one cries out, arm broken.

Laurel wolf whistles when Nyssa leaps, doing a split in the air to break two different people’s noses, and Nyssa tosses her head back with a bright laugh. That’s the image- a pale throat, a flash of dark hair, a light-footed landing and two staggering criminals- in Laurel’s mind as she sighs out, “God, I love you.”

Nyssa’s eyes fly wide with surprise, but she’s a consummate professional; no one lands a hit during her moment of distraction. (Still, Laurel finally rejoins the fight, her cheeks bright red beneath her mask.)

**Nyssa**

Unsurprisingly, Laurel’s declaration has not been discussed since it occurred.

Nyssa had plucked off the Canary mask, gazing into green eyes and bright cheeks, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Laurel’s lips, willing her to understand– _you are beloved but I’m not ready, I may love you but I can’t say it_.

Laurel had kissed her back, soft and sweet and tasting a touch like blood from a blow to her cheek sometime in the last moments of the fight, and Nyssa knew that she did understand.

But Nyssa has noticed that Laurel’s breath will catch in her throat as she looks over at Nyssa, that their fingers will brush and Laurel’s smile will turn soft, and she knows, knows without the words ever leaving Laurel’s lips, that Laurel’s thinking it again.

And Nyssa knows, too–when she rolls over in the morning and presses her nose into silky, fragrant strands with a foolish smile, when she tells her father “I’ll stay in the city for a few more weeks; there are still things I need to learn about the outside world,” when she snickers at the comments Laurel mutters under her breath whenever Queen opens his mouth.

Laurel isn’t the only one thinking it.

And now it’s a quiet morning, the two of them sat on opposite sides of the counter in cool grey light. Laurel’s “chugging” a mug of coffee, her hair a mess and eyes shut tight, her oversized, faded t-shirt falling off of one shoulder. Her other hand sits on the counter–lithe and slender and deceptively strong, and Nyssa reaches for it, impulsively.

She feels Laurel stiffen in surprise- Nyssa rarely instigates affection, particularly not the casual kind- but she simply continues reading the paper, and Laurel follows her lead, finishing the last of her coffee without comment. She sets the mug aside, turns her hand over and closes it around Nyssa’s, and Nyssa takes a deep breath.

She looks up from the paper, meets Laurel’s eyes with a determined set to her jaw. “I love you,” she says.

Laurel’s eyes crinkle. “I love you, too.”

Nyssa turns back to the paper, feeling her cheeks burning the same way Laurel’s had before, and Laurel fills the kitchen with her laughter as she leans over to press her lip’s to Nyssa’s cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up at lisasneeze.tumblr.com with any and all laurel-centric femslash prompts


End file.
